


Much Ado About a Little Something

by talibusorabat (hermitcave)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Much Ado About Nothing - Shakespeare
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:58:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermitcave/pseuds/talibusorabat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beatrice needs Benedick to do her a favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Much Ado About a Little Something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Annariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annariel/gifts).



"Darling, I need you to do something for me."

These words boded no good. They were the nuclear launch code, the self-destruct sequence, the absolute last resort. When Madam Beatrice, Premier of the Shadow Proclamation, needed something from her husband, Benedick knew that he would not like what followed.

He was not wrong.

"No," he said upon hearing her request. "Absolutely not."

"Benedick!" his mistress groaned.

"Cannot you get one of your secretaries to do it?" he asked. " 'Tis a woman's office."

He knew immediately that he should not have said it. He was renowned for his cleverness, and yet somehow he always found the exact wrong thing to say. A tempest brewed behind her eyes, and his death order was signed. Benedick could almost hear the clack clack of the soldiers' boots as they lined up to fire at him.

"A woman's office?" Her voice was an ominous whisper, but it quickly rose to a crescendo. "Is manhood truly such a delicate thing? I had thought it as hard and sturdy as a Bolivian cactus, but it seems you are as fragile as a snake lily. Shall you retire to the hothouse, and shall my gardner tend to you? Her hands are soft and sweet; she would do much good for you."

"Do not so twist my words!" Benedick protested vainly.

"I do not twist them," Beatrice said. "They bend of your own free will, like my lady's youngest who will not sit and do his figures but only ever wishes to play."

The fight had been pointless before the first shot had e'er been fired. "I surrender!" he cried. "The white flag is raised. Sheath your sword, I pray you."

She smiled, and the sword became an olive branch. "If I had anyone else to send, I would," she said. "But there is an oncoming storm and truly I have none to spare."

"Think no more on it -- I am engaged," he said. "I may have retired from the service, but there is mettle enough in me yet for such an embassy."

 

The requested embassy sent him into the dangerous wilderness of 21st century London. There was a charming little shoppe there that Beatrice had discovered when she first joined the Shadow Proclamation, and lord and lady had found themselves in a world beyond the realm of imagination. A world of moving pictures, noisy horseless carriages, metal birds that carried men through the air and whose wings did not melt as Icarus' did. The ability to travel through space and time was the least impressive of all its wonders. Mankind had long dreamed of the ability to visit the past and the future, but never could Benedick ever have imagined "reality tv."

In order to preserve the timeline as best they could, Beatrice and Benedick did not often venture from their own home time, but his wife had quickly become enthralled with certain conveniences, the likes of which had Benedick now standing in line with a handful of their strange paper currency.

"Benedick!" A familiar voice rang in Benedick's ear, a note not wholly unpleasing but a hair too sharp for perfect harmony.

"Count Claudio!" he cried. "Good cousin, what brings you hither?" Neither he nor Hero were of the Shadow Proclamation, and they were not to use Beatrice's time travel device. Yet as Benedick had come to discover, rules meant very little in the world of the Shadow Proclamation -- even the ones they set themselves.

"The better question is what brings you?" Claudio gestured to the package in Benedick's arms. "I had thought you my cousin's husband, not her waiting woman."

"Oh mock not!" Benedick said. "You know full well I am her lord. You watched us take hands as surely as I watched you take Hero's." He did not care for the smirk on his cousin's face.

"In faith, you speak truly, or so I had thought. Do you purchase for yourself then? Where are you injured that you require these feminine necessities?"

This was precisely why Benedick had balked when Beatrice asked him to fetch her "tampons." The snickering of children and the pitying glances of his peers had been bad enough, but the mirth of his erstwhile brother-in-arms was too much.

"Laugh all you like," he said. "There is no shame in being a merry fool. Nor is there any in doing my lady a service. For love of Helen, Paris led his people to their destruction. For Hero, Leander drowned himself in the water. These grand romantic gestures we celebrate, but look how it all worked out for them! My service may be less grand, but at the end of the day, I have a place to hang my bugle. And I wager the service I provide 'tis far more useful."

"Thy tongue is as quick as ever, I see," Claudio said. "Does Beatrice give it plenty of exercise?"

Benedick arched an eyebrow. What kind of rejoinder did Claudio think that was? "Aye, she does," he said. "And I thank her for it. 'Tis a pity my cousin Hero does not do the same, for your tongue could use some training."

"Do not you bring Hero into this!" Claudio seemed as though he would lay his hand on his sword, but none hung by his side.

"Uh, are you guys practicing for a play or something?" Both men turned to face the cashier; they had not noticed the line moving. The young woman stared at them, chewing loudly.

"Yes," Claudio said abruptly.

"Yes we are," Benedick agreed. What other response could they give?

The young lady did not seem impressed.

"How do you think we're doing?" Benedick asked, trying to both break the awkward silence and adopt a more "modern" way of speaking.

She jerked her head, and they turned around to look at the crowd of strangers standing behind them.

"You're holding up the line," she said. "You gonna pay or what?"

"Ah, we'll pay." Benedick hurriedly pulled out his purse and handed over the money. Discretion was the better part of valor.


End file.
